Ask The Flytrap: How Do I Ask for Help?

Welcome to your new favorite advice column from your favorite feminist journalism collective! New editions are published every Wednesday. Read on for the drama, the tea, and the commiseration—and if you want to submit a question, scroll on down to the bottom of this post for more info.

Let's get into it:

Hey Flytrappers,

I’m a longtime reader, a huge fan of Bitch and of y’all, so I’m really hoping you can help me.

I don’t want to be a massive downer, but suffice it to say, through no fault of my own, I have been having A Bad Time for the last let’s say almost 10 years. I’ve definitely gotten a better handle on managing trauma the further I get from some parts of it, but again, through no fault of my own, some of the worst parts of this stuff is getting prolonged. And it’s making it really hard for me to be around regular-degular people, or even people I know who have trauma, but who are more healed than I am.

I’m not as hair-trigger paranoid or defensive as I have been, which is really cool, and I am what my therapist calls “high functioning,” but I still don’t feel like it. I’m working on it really hard, but I have been a raw nerve for so long that I’ve had to cut out a lot of people from my life who made everything worse, and now I’m really lonely.

The friends who’ve managed to stick around keep offering to talk or asking if they can help, but I feel a massive block about talking about it, and I don’t trust them, even people I’ve known for years and years. How can I know that if I tell them about this gigantic yawning void in my head that’s built up over the last decade, they won’t tell me I'm too much, like other people have? Or leave?

Recently, I’ve seen acquaintances who are a lot better at naming and asking for what they need make whole chore rotations for the friend group I’m in, and people actually did it! Wild! So, I know that when people offer their time and stuff, I can take them up on it. But even if I did have chores that I wanted people to do for me, I don’t fully trust them to show up for me if I ask, because I look so “normal.” Why would I need help, right?

All this means is that I’m basically reduced to being the friend who listens, and not the friend who talks, in most conversations, and it’s getting super isolating. If my bad time didn’t already make me feel radioactive, this aspect of it sure does. Not to be that girl with the "Lord of the Ring" analogies, but I’m carrying a freakin’ powerfully evil ring here. How do I start asking for help with the weight from friends without totally cringing out of my skin? And what do I even ask for? Help!

Thanks,
Damn, This One Ring Is Heavy

Dear Damn, This One Ring Is Heavy,

I don’t often jump in the saddle to offer advice to our readers who send in questions, but I read yours, and it was so heartfelt and so relatable that I knew I had to respond. Let’s start here: You’re not alone. Life is hard, and as it progresses, it gets harder for all of us, because that’s what it means to be human. It’s never a linear experience and, sometimes, it’s not an enjoyable one, but in order to survive it, especially the trauma, we need gentleness and connection—and that begins with how we treat ourselves. How we speak to ourselves matters. You’re not a “massive downer.” Trauma is incredibly difficult to manage, and it can make a bad day, a bad month, a bad quarter, or even a bad year feel like a bad life. You’re doing the best you can, and that’s worth a lot more than we tend to give ourselves credit for.

I know this reality intimately. My inner critic is loud as fuck. I’ve also had therapists call me “high functioning,” which only conveys to me that nobody can see how much I’m struggling, how deep the void is, how lonely I am, how loud my thoughts are. I never really ask for help, even when I desperately need it. See? You’re really not alone. But, as I’ve embarked on my own years-long therapy journey, I’ve embraced the mantra that it’s only when we name something that we can tame it, even if what we’re naming and taming are our own cognitive distortions.

It sounds like you’re lonely, you’re seeking connection, and you also have people in your life who you’ve known for years but you are uncomfortable opening up to. I know it can be difficult to trust others, which, to be fair, my therapist has told me comes from not really being able to trust ourselves. Combine that with feeling like asking for help only sets you up for disappointment, and it is an impossible situation. I’ve been there, too, but how do you know how the people in your life won’t show up if you don’t give them the opportunity to?

Opening up is uncomfortable, but it is also essential. Nobody is meant to go through difficult times alone. As much as I used to hate to hear it, I am going to share this morsel of advice anyway: We are humans, and therefore, we are wired for connection. Trust that you have connected with people who will stand in the gap with you, especially when you’re having a difficult time. Plus, you have evidence to counteract what you might be telling yourself: Your acquaintance needed help, set up a chore rotation, and people stepped up. That is also a possibility for you, if you’re willing to move through the discomfort of asking.

You have to open yourself up to the knowing that you don’t have to be perfect to be cared for or loved. Who cares if you are “less healed” than your friends? That simply means they were once where you are, and that makes them good people to be in community with and learn alongside. That doesn’t mean your friends will always get it right. They might say something that makes a hard day even harder, or they may not have the capacity to listen on a day when you really need an ear, but that doesn’t mean they care less.

I’ve been guilty of not knowing what I needed, not asking for what I needed, and then becoming resentful when people weren’t able to read my mind. That isn’t fair to me or to the people I’ve chosen to be in community with. I had to learn to make space for people to show up, and gently, so do you. So, start small. If you’re having a hard day, text a friend and ask if they have the time and the capacity for a phone call because you could use support. You might be surprised at how they answer. And tell your friends all of what you’ve told us—you don’t think anyone will show up. Let your friends prove you wrong and upend that inner voice.

Step forward. Ask for what you need from the people you’ve chosen to be in your life. Take up space in conversations. Don’t shy away from being open about what you’re experiencing, especially when it’s taking an emotional and mental toll on you. I know that requires vulnerability, but if your friends are on similar healing journeys, which you implied that they are, then they will meet your vulnerability with their own. It will still likely be cringy, especially in the beginning, but opening up is a practice that becomes easier over time.

In the meantime, put down the powerfully evil ring. Leave that to the folks in Lord of the Rings. Just be here, present, in this moment. Take a deep breath, call up a friend, and let them lift you up. Chances are, you won’t regret it.

In love,
Evette

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